


Eye of the Storm

by TextualDeviance



Series: The Raven and the Dove [33]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextualDeviance/pseuds/TextualDeviance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though battle is nearly upon them, Athelstan and Ragnar cherish some time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Set in late 2x10, just before the prayer scene. Follows [The Price of Revenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2049801)
> 
> This is the final work in the series, at least until season 3! Thanks for reading!

Chaos and death were only a sunset away, yet all Ragnar could think about was Athelstan finally being in his arms once again.

As he waited for his lover to arrive at their favorite spot near the waterfall, Ragnar felt a flutter of nervousness in his belly. It had been so long since they last had been intimate that he wondered if things had changed. Athelstan had seemed keen enough in the few moments they’d had alone since being reunited, but both of them had been through so much in the past year that he feared it might at least be awkward to make love again. Too, he wondered whether Athelstan’s return to his faith might well have made him reluctant or ashamed to share his body in the ways that his holy men called a sin, or whether the violence he had endured at the hands of his countrymen might have made him fearful of being touched.

Ragnar needn’t have worried. As soon as Athelstan rounded the bend and saw him, he broke into a run, and nearly tumbled them both to the ground with his exuberant embrace.

“Whoa!” Ragnar pushed back to catch his breath, and chuckled.

Athelstan’s cheeks went pink, and he flashed a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’m just happy to see you.”

“And I, you.” Ragnar returned the smile. “Though I apologize for tearing you away from Torstein. How is he?”

“A touch pale and weak, but he’s in fair condition. I’ve seen him in worse shape after just a night of drinking.”

Ragnar nodded. “Good. We will need all the help we can get tonight. Floki mentioned that Horik plans to attack at sunset, so we all need to be in place by then. I have briefed everyone else on where they should be. Lagertha will taking her company to the guest house, and I would like you to—“

Athelstan clamped a hand over his mouth. “Enough!” he growled.

“Hnn?” Ragnar mumbled, confused.

Athelstan rolled his eyes. “We can discuss battle plans later. I’ve been away from you for more than a year. For the love of all the gods, please stop talking and kiss me!”

Laughing, Ragnar gladly did so.

The joy of reuniting and the sparks of memory from all the blissful times before that they had come to this place snuck up on Ragnar. Only a short time after they had disrobed and curled around each other on the soft ground, Athelstan's eager hands and deft, swirling tongue brought him to a sudden peak.

"Wow!" Athelstan giggled as he pulled away. He sucked a stray drop from his lower lip. "Usually I am the one going off quickly. I guess you did miss me."

Ragnar lightly thumped his head. "Figured that out, did you?" His eyes flicked over Athelstan's body. His twitching cock was so hard that its foreskin was stretched tightly around the dark head. A clear, slick trail oozed from the tip. "I am not done with you yet,” he said, brushing his lips over Athelstan’s cheek. “I just need a few moments’ rest."

"Of course." Athelstan lay back and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, as he often did when trying to calm himself—a practice honed in his many years of celibacy. Soon enough, the urgent state of his cock had eased, and they both lay there in the grass, quietly kissing and caressing.

It was late summer, and the air was warm, with just a light breeze cooling the sweat on their bodies. Birdsong and the soft roar of the water were a relaxing backdrop to their coupling; the natural world was unaware of the bloodshed that awaited them at dusk. Ragnar wished they could stay there forever, and that the fight would somehow become unnecessary, but Athelstan’s beautiful nakedness next to him had sparked more than just love and desire. Though they were mostly faded, the network of thin scars that streaked his legs and torso, and the deeper, uglier ones on his hands reminded Ragnar of Horik’s perfidy. For every hurt Athelstan and the rest of the people he loved and cared for had endured thanks to the corrupt king, he wished to return it tenfold.

Yet quiet gentleness of the man who lay beside him had also reminded Ragnar that there was more he could do to salve those wounds than merely exact violent revenge. Raising up on an elbow, he reached over to his lover’s peaceful face, and pushed a lock of hair from his forehead, revealing the light marks there.

Athelstan blinked and looked up, favoring him with a warm, languid smile. “Ready so soon?”

Ragnar shook his head. His cock was recovering, but it still dangled against his thigh. “No, but it doesn’t matter. You have served me for so many years. Let me serve you.”

“Are you sure? I can—Oh!” Athelstan’s words dissolved as Ragnar began suckling at his neck.

He took his time, dropping gentle kisses on every scar, every mark, every wounded place on Athelstan’s body. A nipple that had been cut by a whip was tenderly licked. A deep scar on his thigh was lightly stroked. And his palms were each brought to Ragnar’s mouth, as if he could somehow make the divots in them disappear with just the touch of his lips. By the time he had attended them all, Athelstan was trembling and making small, broken noises. Ragnar looked up, and noticed that his lover was fighting tears.

“Are you all right?” Ragnar murmured. “Shall I stop?”

“No.” Athelstan gently guided his head back down. “Please continue. _Please_. I need you.”

Ragnar understood, and set his mouth to a new task. In the past, it wasn’t often that he had gotten to do this. Athelstan usually begged to be fucked before he could get that far. But today, it was clear that he needed the close attention, and Ragnar was happy to provide it. Cradling his silky, nearly hairless balls in one palm, he dove down, taking the full length in one go. Athelstan gasped and cursed and his hips jerked up. Encouraged, Ragnar kept going, reveling in the weight and the hot, tender skin against his tongue. He wanted to try to make it last, but Athelstan was already so aroused that it seemed barely a few heartbeats had passed before he cried out, and a surge of thick sweetness flooded Ragnar’s mouth.

Only a moment after he was spent, Athelstan broke down, his body convulsing with deep, ragged sobs.  

Ragnar pulled away and took Athelstan in his arms, letting him bury his face in his chest. He held him as tightly as he could while all the grief and misery poured out—a release that Athelstan clearly needed even more than the physical one. Ragnar soon found tears sliding down his own cheeks, and he petted Athelstan’s soft, tangled hair, whispering words of love to soothe them both.

Finally, the sobs quieted, and Athelstan settled back to catch his breath. After a while, he spoke again. “I begged God to save me,” he said, rubbing his swollen eyes. “He sent me the king, who rescued me and cared for me. I was—am—grateful for that. But that was not the only saving I needed, and Ecbert was not the savior I had wished for. I tried to return to my old life—to return to the piety that I once knew—but I could not. I still love God, but I love you also, and I could not bear us being parted. I tried to pray it away, but not a day went by that I didn’t miss you, and hope you would someday come for me.”

“Not a day went by that I didn’t want to." Ragnar traced Athelstan's mouth with a fingertip. "Even when they told me you had likely died, I refused to believe it. I knew you had to be alive, and that I had to go back and find you.”

“And you did.” Athelstan smiled and reached up to stroke Ragnar’s cheek.

“I did,” Ragnar echoed. “I would do it again if ever I had to. Though I dearly hope I do not.  I would rather not have to fight another war to get you back again.” He winked.

“Understandable!” Athelstan chuckled softly. “You needn’t worry, however. I am a free man now, but I am still yours. I will be by your side as long as you wish me to be.”

“Good. Because I like having you there.” Ragnar dropped a kiss on a damp cheek. “Though I also like having you in other positions,” he purred. He shifted his hips, nudging his newly swelling cock against Athelstan’s thigh.

“Ah!” Athelstan squirmed and giggled. “I see you aren’t done with me, then.”

“Of course not,” Ragnar murmured, sliding a hand between Athelstan’s thighs. “And by all the gods--mine and yours--I swear I never will be.”


End file.
